


Memento Mori

by KateLouisaRose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateLouisaRose/pseuds/KateLouisaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has lived beyond a thousand years in waiting for his King. When Arthur is returned to his arms, they cling to one another like driftwood caught in the tide. This is the new age, and everything is fast and bright; the lives they once knew cast into legend. Arthur must find his place in the new world, and Merlin just has to stay sane for long enough to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, any mistakes are entirely my own.

> _  
> "And I, the last, go forth companionless,_
> 
> _And the days darken round me, and the years,_
> 
> _Among new men, strange faces, other minds."_

 

The Isle of Avalon, beautiful and relatively unchanged in over a thousand years. Merlin could feel the magic here, pulsing like a distant heartbeat all around him. The lake was vast and still, and the wind was cold and bitter on his lined face as he made his way down the bank from the road. Cars and lorries passed by the lake every day. Children played by the water in the summer, people walked their dogs and jogged through the sparse trees remaining on the bank, leading to green fields and pretty dolls house cottages. The legend of King Arthur remained inextricably linked to Avalon, although warped by time, and misinterpreted and changed in some rather unforgivable ways. Merlin was just happy that he had been remembered. For once, it was something he was glad the Great Dragon had been right about. Arthur had been remembered, and his life had been built up from the reality only Merlin knew. Today, he was known as Arthur, the Faultless King. Children dressed up as him on holidays and for pageants, historians fancied themselves experts on his life and times. Some did not believe that he had ever existed at all.

What made Merlin sad was that there was no text which could ever capture the way Arthur's eyes crinkled at the edges when he laughed at something Merlin had said, or shared stories with his knights and talked to Guinevere in the hushed tones they reserved only for each other. Guinevere, whom the stories portrayed as a disloyal wife, a vain and vindictive creature, whose true nature could not be further from the lies these people told of her. He wondered if it satisfied them, to weave these elaborate stories about betrayal and lost love, when poor, sweet Gwen had lived and loved a life as pure as any other, and suffered the death of her husband as a young and loyal queen. Nobody alive would ever truly know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of one of Arthur's dazzling smiles, to feel the warmth spread outwards from their hearts and want more than anything to please him, this noble, valiant king. The ruined castle walls of Camelot could not retain the wonder of his majesty and love in their cold stone. The only other ones who could ever know the real Arthur Pendragon, arrogant prince, wise king, and good man, were long dead and gone. Merlin carried the memory of his prince with him through the ages, knowing that one day he would be back, and he would be as much of a prat as ever. Merlin had never wanted anything more in his life.

The legends also spoke of an old man who stood watch over the lake, protecting it for many years. Some people called him Merlin, the great wizard and confidant of the illustrious King Arthur. Only a handful of people had ever seen him, or thought they had seen that distant figure standing sentinel over the lake. He never stayed long, just looking out over the water as if he were waiting for something; when that something never came, he would walk calmly away and melt seamlessly back into the trees. To some, he was a ghost of the past, to others, a guardian of their future. They didn't know that he was only there for one person, the one person who never came home.

Merlin scratched at his long white beard, smoothing it down thoughtfully. He didn't much like being in this old body, it made him feel more powerful of course, but somehow vulnerable, knowing how others perceived him as a frail old man ambling along at the side of the road. He broke through the clearing, and somewhere deep inside him that fragile little bubble of hope swelled up and warmed his heart before he managed to fight it down again. It was the eve of the anniversary, the only day of the year that ever mattered to Merlin now. He couldn't even remember his own birthday anymore. The years passed in a blur of decades and centenaries with no measure of note except this one day every year where Merlin made the pilgrimage home. He approached the black water with well practiced restraint and let his eyes scan once over the surface for that pale hand reaching up from the depths. Merlin closed his eyes and took a breath, looking over to the bank and seeing in his mind's eye the slumped form of Arthur in his dying moments, held tight in his arms, whispering to him the words that Merlin knew he spoke from his heart.

His attention was drawn to the water's edge by a loud indignant cry where several teens stood hurling rocks into the still water and skimming smooth, flat stones across the surface in competition. One of them picked up a jagged lump of rock and threw it into the water with a grunt of satisfaction, watching as it cast an almighty splash in its wake, churning the water up in billowing clouds of mud. The boy's friend laughed in delight and followed up the display by flinging a sharp stone far out into the mere, where it landed with a soft splash in the deep water. Merlin stumbled as memories flashed through his head, each more vivid than the last: Arthur, falling to the ground as the last of his strength left him, holding onto him in desperation, the hope, the love, the  _fear_ in his eyes. And then he was gone, and Merlin was staring down at his friend's body, feeling the cold, unnatural clamminess of his skin and waiting for him to wake up, to breathe, anything. The boat was small and the ceremony could never be grand enough for his Arthur. Merlin had watched a piece of his heart drifting out onto the lake with Arthur's body, and known that until he returned, he would never again feel whole. He was left with the ache in his chest and the overwhelming sense of loss which consumed him. There was another cry from the group of young boys, and Merlin closed his eyes against the pain.  _Just hold me, please._

Merlin opened his eyes, and in the distance from the depths there rose a pale hand, clutching a beautiful silver blade which caught the light and flashed bright like the white dragon fire which forged it in legend. The hand swept the sword in an elaborate arc, brandishing it three times in triumph, a gesture which Merlin knew all too well. The stones the boys threw rained down upon it and struck the polished blade, and the hand began to withdraw. "Stop," Merlin breathed, one hand pressed against his forehead. "Stop it," he said, louder this time, his head pounding. They were ruining everything, they were hurting Arthur, disrespecting his memory. "Stop!" he cried. The boys looked over at the crazy old man lurching towards them with his hand outstretched.

"What?" One of them called, the others laughed.

"Stop it!" Merlin felt the tears wetting his eyes again, blurring his vision.

"Stop what?"

"Don't throw the rocks, you'll hurt him." Merlin found himself saying, his eyes fixed on the point where the hand had appeared moments before.

"Hurt who? There's no one there mate!" The boys laughed. Merlin swallowed thickly and dragged his eyes away to look at them, this group of young, unknowing torturers, and he shook his head in a daze of grief.

"Someone might be swimming, it's dangerous." Merlin said, his voice catching in a throaty mimicry of his usual tone, scratched by age and time.

"Who would be swimming in this weather? It's bloody freezing." Merlin wanted to hit him.

"Just...don't." he said wearily, and the boys shrugged at each other and ambled away.

Merlin limped towards the water and fell to his knees beside the gently lapping surface. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, and the wind which rustled the leaves in the trees around him carried Arthur's last whispered words. Merlin spread his hand across the water and felt the pull of magic in the depths of the cold mere.

By the time the sun set on the industrial horizon, Merlin way lying on the bank beside the lake, young again, listening to the quiet rippling of the water and manipulating the air to warm himself in the cold night.

"Gaius is back," Merlin said with a short laugh. "He's just the same, still treating me like a boy." He watched the ripples cast across the lake by the playful breeze, trailing a hand in the cool water thoughtfully. "You know, he didn't remember at first. He thought I was crazy, running up to him in the street like that." Merlin closed his eyes. "I hope you remember," he whispered. "I hope you know who I am, when you come back. I don't want you to be a stranger after all these years." He swept his hand in a wide arc, trailing sparks of brilliant light through the clear water which danced into the form of Arthur's smiling face, looking up at Merlin beneath the glassy surface; unreachable.

Merlin slept beside the lake that night; he needed to be close to Arthur again. He had tried leaving. He had tried so many times in all those years to leave the lake, leave the country. Merlin had spent a hundred years in Australia, of all places, trying to forget. He walked, he backpacked across whole countries, three times around the world and back again; but it was no good. Something always drew him back here to the lake, to Avalon, to Camelot, to Arthur. Merlin always felt the most at home, lying on the bank next to the lake, beneath the same bright stars, waiting.

When he left, it didn't feel like waiting anymore, it felt like running. Merlin had lived for too long to forget what running away from his problems felt like, and that it never solved anything in the long run. And it had been a long run, a very long run to this blue lake, and this new age of technology and science. The lives of the people Merlin had once known, their courage and valour and nobility, all that they had ever lived and loved, and even he and Arthur, had become the stuff of legend. He had watched as the present turned to past, the past from history to stories, drifting into myth and legend, and soon to be lost to him forever.

Merlin looked up at the trees and felt the cold like frozen lips against his cheek, and the wind running playful fingers through his soft dark hair, and thought of Arthur. Merlin thought of all those years, looking back and realising that hidden in every glance they ever shared, every word they ever spoke was 'I love you'. Merlin had seen every moment of their lives together and wished more than anything that he had told Arthur just once how much he meant to him. They would always have those last hours together, at the end. That had been the closest they had ever come to those three little words, and Merlin had loved him more in that short time than he ever thought possible. As the years passed, Merlin had kept watch over that lake, and poured his heart out to that stagnant pool and imagined that his friend could hear him. It helped him to deal, when the grief became too much. He couldn't say it now, no matter how much he felt it needed to be said. The time had passed for last words, and Merlin knew that nothing could ever do justice to the way he felt about him, and how his heart beat out a constant maddening tattoo of  _Arthur...Arthur...Arthur_ and drove out all other thoughts besides his Once and Future King. The part of him which had been sent off into the mere with Arthur's body pulled at him relentlessly, no matter where he fled.

Merlin closed his eyes and let sleep take him, reaching out to Arthur with his mind and dreaming of their days in Camelot together. He could scarcely remember how it felt when Arthur would touch him, just casual pats on the back or their friendly jostling. He missed it so much.

He woke up with the early morning sunlight filtering through the trees above his head. Merlin was reminded suddenly of a hunting trip he had gone on with Arthur and the knights in the summer. He remembered the way Gwaine and Percival had wrestled with one another in the grass, laughing uproariously before Arthur split them up with a grin. He remembered the way the breeze stirred Arthur's hair as they lay in wait, two each huddled behind a tree, weapons trained on the hart which scented the air and pawed the ground restlessly as it sensed danger. Then Merlin had tripped on a tree stump and fallen face first into the dirt at Arthur's feet and the hart bounded off into the trees. Merlin smiled to himself as he thought about the way Arthur had cuffed him round the head before looking down at him affectionately and helping him up. A tear slipped down his cheek before Merlin could stop it, and he brushed it away angrily.

Gaius returning had been one of the first signs that Arthur was coming back. Merlin had waited forever for a sound, a sign, anything that would tell him that it was time for Arthur to live again. He wondered how long it would take for everything to settle into place. Today was the anniversary of Arthur's death, and Merlin knew that it was foolish to think that today might also be the day that he would get to have Arthur back and living and breathing again; but there was a tiny part of him which refused to believe that it couldn't happen. That part was hope.

Merlin blinked into the sun and stretched his aching limbs, casting a longing gaze over the water before turning his back on the lake and starting out through the trees to collect firewood. The council didn't officially allow open fires in the woods, but Merlin cast a cloaking spell around the billowing smoke his small fire gave off and basked in the trapped heat, safe in the knowledge that he couldn't be seen. There was a song Arthur used to sing when they went on patrol of Camelot's boarders with the knights, and Merlin hummed it to himself softly now, mimicking Arthur's deep, gruff voice and missing the way he used to bend down the note at the end into a stirring baritone. Arthur hadn't liked anyone to hear him singing, and it was only when he and Merlin were alone that he clearly felt comfortable enough to begin. Merlin just pretended not to listen too intently and smiled to himself as they walked. He had a good voice, and Merlin wondered if it would have changed in all this time, become deeper, maybe, more commanding. What scared Merlin most about waiting was the possibility that at the end of it all he would find out he had been waiting for someone who wasn't the same person any more.

Merlin spent the day occupying himself by wandering through the small woods and resolutely not watching the lake. He tried very hard not to think again about what it would be like to have Arthur back, wondering what he would say to him. By the time the sun was about to set, Merlin couldn't stand it any longer.

The lake was still, reflecting liquid gold in the last rays of sunlight. Merlin walked slowly towards the water's edge and looked out over the mere, his heart beating a frantic tattoo as he watched for the hand reaching out of the water, brandishing the fabled Excalibur. For a long time nothing happened, and Merlin closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Arthur, I-" Merlin sighed and turned away. There was a soft rustle in the trees as the wind stirred the leaves, and carried on the breeze Merlin heard a single name.

 _Merlin..._  He turned slowly and opened his eyes. There, as the last rays of sunlight slipped soundlessly below the horizon and cast the world into darkness, out in the distant depths of the mere the tip of a sword broke the mirrored surface. Merlin stumbled closer, drawn by the memory of ages past. He watched in disbelief as the sword rose out of the water, held aloft by a strong arm which he had dreamt of seeing again. Merlin rubbed his eyes comically and blinked a few times, but unlike before, the arm remained, rising into the open. Merlin found himself already knee deep in the freezing water, eyes fixed on the body emerging from the lake. Clad in chainmail as clean and rust free as the day it was forged, soaking breaches clinging to his legs, skin grey with cold, and with eyes of the most piercing blue, stood Arthur Pendragon, the King of Camelot, the Once and  _Future_  King.

Before he knew it, Merlin was splashing into the water and flinging himself deeper into the freezing cold. His clothes were weighing him down and Arthur was too far away but he was screaming and laughing and he could hardly see through the tears streaming down his face and mingling with the icy water plastering his hair to his scalp. Arthur stood in the shallow water, and his eyes held a faraway look which frightened Merlin more than he could ever put words to. Arthur seemed in a trance, staring down at the sword in his hand and oblivious to Merlin meters away now, shouting at him. "Arthur!" Merlin screamed his throat raw in his terror, tripping on a rock beneath the surface and splashing into the water. "Arthur look at me!" he cried, reaching out to the figure standing rigidly in the lake. "It's me, Merlin,  _please!_ "

As soon as Merlin said his name, Arthur seemed to snap out of his trance. He looked up and in an instant the memories flashed behind his eyes, the years they spent together, their bond, everything becoming crystal clear and painfully real. "Merlin," Arthur said softly, and that was enough. Merlin was on his knees, water lapping at his throat, and Arthur took one step, and then another. Merlin threw himself forwards and Arthur stumbled the last few paces and his arms were around Merlin and his face was buried in Merlin's neck and Merlin was sobbing with great, heaving cries of happiness as they held each other.

"Arthur," Merlin choked, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands scrabbling at the smooth armour on Arthur's back, his cheek pressed against Arthur's cheek and his arms tightening impossibly around Arthur's shoulders. Arthur was hugging him so tightly it hurt and Merlin didn't care, his just murmured Arthur's name over and over again and clutched at his body and wove his fingers into his hair and pressed a hard, chaste kiss to his cheek. "I missed you so much," Merlin gasped as Arthur stroked his hair and Merlin felt hot, wet tears dripping onto his shoulder where Arthur's face was buried against his neck.

"Merlin," Arthur said again, and Merlin just about managed to let him go for a few seconds to look at him fully. Arthur blinked at him and his face split into a grin, his hand cupping Merlin's face as he stared at him in wonder. Merlin leant into the touch; Arthur's fingers were as cold as ice and Merlin took his other hand and tugged on it eagerly, leading him towards the shore. Arthur put his arm around Merlin's waist and leaned his weight on Merlin's shoulder. The couple staggered awkwardly through the cold which made their chests tighten and cast small indolent ghosts of their breath in the night air. Arthur's hand twitched sporadically around Merlin's as the other man dragged him forwards, his breathing laboured and his eyes slipping closed. They tripped onto the sandy bank and fell in a mess of tired limbs on the ground. Merlin took Arthur's weight and held him around his middle like a child hugging a teddy bear, his face buried against Arthur's warm, living flesh, feeling his King's pulse beat frantically beneath his fragile skin.

Arthur sat up slowly and turned to look at Merlin. Merlin reached out and touched his face. When he realised what he had just done he looked startled but Arthur smiled. He suddenly leaned back and appraised Merlin critically for some moments before frowning.

"Merlin, what are you  _wearing_?!" He said with an incredulous expression. Merlin looked down at his blue hoodie and red snood and he laughed loudly. Arthur just stared at him, and then he reached out and swiped his thumb across Merlin's cheek gently, removing a tear track. Merlin's laughter subsided into awkward hiccupping coughs as the tears continued to wash his cheeks. "Why are you crying?" Arthur said kindly, and Merlin sniffed and wiped a hand over his face.

"I'm happy," Arthur's face softened and he touched his forehead to Merlin's tenderly.

"How long..." He said after a moment. Merlin closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.

"I stopped counting after the first thousand." He replied. Merlin didn't see Arthur's face pale.

" _Years?!"_ Arthur exclaimed. Merlin leaned into his touch and said nothing. Arthur's sigh was heavy with regret. He moved away and looked at Merlin again, reaching out to ruffle his wet hair plastered to his scalp.

"My wonderful idiot," he said softly. Merlin smiled shakily as Arthur folded him into a hug. When Arthur held him it was like he wished he could erase the last one thousand four hundred and seventy years with a single embrace, and that was all Merlin had ever really wanted.

"You know, I spent so long thinking of all the things I'd say to you when I finally had you back, and now I can't think of anything at all." Merlin murmured; his hands pressed against the cold metal armour which had failed to protect his friend in his final moments. He almost felt as though he could transfer all those thoughts, all those emotions and memories to Arthur through the simple touch. Arthur huffed and plucked at Merlin's hideous neck-thing from his position over his shoulder.

"Come on," Merlin said, sniffing brightly and wiping his eyes again as they pulled apart. Arthur still had that peculiar sadness about him, and Merlin wished he could make it go away.  _All those questions,_ he thought.  _All that time and everything he's missed._ "There's someone you should meet."

* * *

When Merlin rapped on the door of the old cottage on the farm, Gaius took so long to open it that they nearly thought he was out. The soft orange light of the fire within cast liquid pools of gold on the grass outside. Merlin sighed loudly and took a step back, bracing himself for the onslaught of abuse.

"What have you done with your bloody keys young man?!" Gaius yelled from inside, his voice familiar, even though his language had taken a somewhat interesting turn in the last year since Merlin had found him again.

"Sorry Gaius," Merlin replied guiltily.

"I confess it's been a while but as far as I can remember, you youngsters still respected your elders in the middle ages!" Merlin rolled his eyes, and Arthur shifted beside him, his hand still on Merlin's hip comfortably, unable to let each other go just yet. "And immortality is no excu..."

Gaius tried valiantly to finish his sentence as the door swung open, but all words fell from his lips and melted into silence at the sight of Arthur Pendragon standing behind his former manservant on their porch. "My God," Gaius breathed. "Sire..." Arthur smiled at the title which Gaius ejaculated instinctively.

"Gaius," Arthur replied, leaving Merlin's side momentarily and folding the old man into a hug. Gaius put his arms around the King's torso woodenly and patted his back.

"It's good to see you again my boy," he said, withdrawing awkwardly and holding Arthur at arm's length to appraise him. "You haven't aged a day," Gaius continued in a slightly less stunned voice. Merlin just stood there grinning from ear to prominent ear. Gaius peered over Arthur's shoulder and glared at Merlin. "Do you know what it's going to be like, surrounded by immortal young men? At my age? Inconsiderate twits. Come on, there's a fire in the next room, and then you must both tell me everything." Arthur glanced behind him as Gaius propelled him through the doorway and shared a private grin with Merlin.

Merlin leaned against the wall uneasily for a moment and steadied his breathing. There was so much to tell Arthur, and no proper way to explain how much the world had changed in all those years. He had no idea how they were going to manage this, if Arthur would want to know everything that had happened in his absence, or nothing at all. When he entered the living room Arthur was seated on the big sofa in the corner and Gaius was trying to offer him a cup of tea. Merlin took in the scene before him and stifled another smile. He sat down beside Arthur and wordlessly began fiddling with the fastenings on his armour. "Merlin you don't have to do that -" Arthur objected but Merlin shushed him and carefully began removing the heavy metal plates from Arthur's shoulders.

"Be quiet," Merlin said gently, "you don't know how much I've missed this." Arthur looked at Gaius as the old man cast his eyes to the floor. Evidently he knew all too well how much Merlin had missed everything about his former life with the King. "Your clothes are wet, come with me and I'll find you something to wear." Merlin instructed, leading Arthur out of the room by the hand and down the corridor to his bedroom. Arthur followed him obediently and sidled into the room behind Merlin. Merlin turned to look at him and rolled his eyes.

"Arthur, put the sword down." He said wearily. Arthur glanced at the sword Excalibur in his hand and set it down guiltily. "Look," Merlin said, rummaging through a wardrobe and finding one of his old tee shirts from the eighties with 'AC/DC' printed on the front in faded letters. "Try this on; a friend borrowed this once, I think he was about your size." Arthur took the tee shirt awkwardly and held it up against himself. "And...uh, trousers, here you go," Arthur caught the jogging bottoms with one hand and eyed them warily. Merlin turned around and looked at him. "Um, yeah, pants." He muttered to himself, handing Arthur a pair of his boxers.

"Merlin?" Arthur said in a slightly startled voice. Merlin caught his eye and smiled encouragingly. "...thanks."

"No problem." Merlin replied, leaving Arthur standing alone in the room with the borrowed clothes clutched to his chest.

Merlin closed the door behind him and leaned against it exhaustedly, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. "Merlin, what's wrong?" Gaius approached him with his quiet shuffle and stared at him with one eyebrow raised quizzically. Merlin looked at him plaintively and Gaius gestured to the door. "Aside from...that." Merlin swallowed, breathing deeply for a few moments before shoving away from the door and running his fingers through his hair in distress.

"He doesn't belong here, Gaius! I mean, why now? What's so special about now? I've lived through hundreds of years that Arthur would have been better suited to!"

"Calm down Merlin, Arthur has been brought back for a reason. The fact that we don't yet know what that reason is, does not make it any less valid."

"But he's not the King anymore! He can't be the King!"

"Merlin,"

"I'm pretty sure Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth the Second might have something to say about that, not to mention the two men next in line to the throne of England!"

"Merlin!"

"And what if, what if there's nothing for him now? What then? Is he just supposed to- to live a pointless life with me?! Because I can tell you now that is not what he needs. It's not what  _Britain_  needs of him. He can do so much, Gaius, I've seen it, and you can remember. He can't just sit around and be...  _useless._ "

"And he won't be!" Gaius said earnestly, gripping Merlin's arms and shaking him lightly. "I promise you that everything will work out." Merlin looked at him tragically with tears welling in his eyes.

"I wanted it to be...special." He said softly. Gaius patted his arm consolingly.

"Life doesn't have to be all sparks and fireworks, lad." He replied, "It can be special in a quiet way too."

It was at this point that Arthur opened the door and stepped out into the hall self-consciously. The clothes fitted him well, while also managing to look incredibly wrong. Merlin smiled at him and wiped at his eyes in embarrassment. "You look great!" Merlin said cheerfully. Arthur raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

"There's dinner for you both on the table," Gaius said, diffusing the tension.

* * *

Merlin watched Arthur pick at his food uncomfortably, his eyes scanning the modest kitchen with vague interest. Gaius caught Merlin's eye and made a surreptitious head movement which Merlin decoded as meaning 'take Arthur into the living room'. Merlin looked across the small table at Arthur. The King looked very lost and disorientated and Merlin reached out to touch his hand briefly. "Done?" he asked, gesturing to the full plate in front of him.

"Yes, thank you." Arthur replied with a weak smile.

They settled down in front of the fire again, the night outside cold and distant in front of the warm hearth. Arthur was staring into the fire, lost to his observation of the passive flames licking at the charred logs, his thumb making repetitive, sweeping motions across his own arm. "Where is Guinevere?" He said suddenly. Gaius and Merlin looked up in surprise at the King who had been silent for almost thirty minutes. Arthur turned around and looked at them hopefully, his eyes bright with the memory of his beloved wife. Gaius and Merlin exchanged a glance before Merlin knelt down before Arthur and took his hand. Arthur's face fell and Merlin closed his eyes. "Arthur," Merlin said gently, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder and taking a deep breath against the lump in his throat. He cast a look at Gaius again and the old man nodded solemnly. "Some of them come back as they were, some remember, some do not." Arthur looked at him pleadingly, his eyes begging him not to speak the words that would make it final. "Arthur, some of them don't come back at all."

"No,"

"Gwen lived a long life," Gaius said, his eyes clouded with the memories of long ago. "She was a fair and gracious queen." Arthur looked down at his hands, as though remembering when he had held Gwen's delicate hands in his own. It must have felt like mere days ago to him where Gwen was alive and beautiful and happy. Merlin saw the pain flicker behind his eyes and the ache of loss consuming him as it had done Merlin for all those years.

"She ruled with as much heart and honour as you did, Arthur. I was proud to guide her and call her my queen." Gaius continued sadly. "Guinevere loved you until the end of her days."

Arthur brushed away the tears spilling down his cheeks. Merlin watched as Arthur stood up quickly and left the room. Gaius gave him a helpless look as Merlin ran after him.

Arthur was standing outside, his arms folded across his chest and his head tipped back, watching the stars. He took a long shuddering breath as Merlin approached and wiped his eyes with a sniff, composing himself. Merlin touched Arthur's arm as he came to stand beside him. After a long silence Merlin said: "Some of us aren't meant to come back." Arthur swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. "Gwen lived her life then, and it became a happy one, in the end."

"And you waited for all that time," Arthur murmured, unable to look at Merlin. "You saw all of them grow old and fade away." Merlin heard the catch in his voice and put his arm around Arthur's shoulders.

"Yes," Merlin replied, leaning his head against Arthur's. "But I saw them happy too. I saw the kingdom you built rise up and prosper. Your legacy lived on for an age. The people of this time still speak of us and everything you achieved as King."

Arthur smiled, but it was small and forced. Merlin squeezed his shoulder. He wished he could tell Arthur that he didn't have to smile through the pain anymore.

"Is there anyone else?" Arthur said in a voice strained with false optimism.

"Your father lived again a few years ago, but he never married, and he never had any children." Arthur nodded stiffly. Merlin recounted the small knowledge he had of the late Uther Pendragon, born again into a noble and respectable family but without a title or any knowledge of his son from another life. Arthur listened intently, but Merlin knew that he would not have wanted to meet his father again. The Uther of this time had not suffered the trials he had as King of Camelot, and in his heart he was still a good man, but he had retained an inexplicable trace of bitterness and anger which plagued his former self. Uther had died alone, and with no one to carry on the name of Pendragon, that too had died with Arthur's reincarnated father. Merlin liked to think that deep down, Uther had always known who his son had been, and would be again. Perhaps that was enough to carry him through this life for a second time. As it went, Uther's life had been the first, vital clue for Merlin that soon Arthur would be returned to him.

Arthur's legs finally betrayed him and the King sank to the damp floor where he sat with his legs tucked beneath him. "I don't want to hear anything else tonight." Arthur said in a detached voice. Merlin looked up at Gaius who had appeared silhouetted in the doorway to the cottage. He nodded at him before turning silently away and leaving the two in peace. Merlin slid onto the floor beside Arthur and put his arm around his waist, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. Arthur sighed deeply and relaxed against him.

"All that time alone," Arthur said after a pause. Merlin said nothing for a long while.

"It wouldn't have mattered if I was surrounded by the most interesting people I've ever met," Merlin murmured softly, feeling the steady rise and fall of Arthur's breathing beside him. "If none of them were you I'd always feel alone." Arthur swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Don't say things like that..." he said stiffly. "You make it sound like I'm your entire world and I can't –" Merlin didn't reply, and Arthur looked at him. "I can't bear the thought that I've stolen your life from you." Arthur rose suddenly and ran a hand through his hair.

"Arthur!" Merlin called as Arthur began striding towards the house.

"I didn't ask for any of this!" Arthur shouted, and Merlin jumped. "I would give  _anything_ for you to have lived a normal, mortal life with some pretty girl and,  _children_ and, I don't know, _grandchildren!"_  Merlin bit his lip helplessly. "It's bad enough that fate decided that this place," here he made a sweeping gesture to the world around them shrouded in darkness, "needs me to come back for whatever reason, but the last thing I ever wanted was to drag you along with me." He cleared his throat. Merlin didn't know what to say; he stood there stupidly and felt the distance between them like a gaping wound, seeing a stranger in place of his friend and feeling like his heart had been flayed open for everyone to see. Arthur looked at him sadly and shook his head. "Knowing that you have felt every second while I've been stuck beneath that lake, that is killing me." He said. Arthur broke their gaze and walked away, closing the door behind him with a bang.

* * *

Merlin lay awake in his room, listening to Gaius snoring peacefully along the hall. He wondered if Arthur was able to sleep after everything he had learned. No sooner had he thought it, there was a sound outside his door. Arthur slipped into Merlin's room and quietly stood with his back to the door. Merlin sat up and smiled at him in the darkness. Arthur walked slowly towards Merlin's bed and sat down beside him. He was clutching the gleaming sword in his hands like he didn't know what to do with it. It was as though he needed something material to cling to, to reaffirm his belief in the solid world. Merlin lifted the covers in offering and Arthur slid beneath the duvet gratefully. "Trouble sleeping?" Merlin murmured as Arthur rolled onto his side to look at him.

"I think I've slept for long enough, don't you?" Arthur's reply was tinged with regret. Merlin inched closer and wordlessly wrapped him in his arms. Arthur sighed and buried his face in Merlin's neck, holding on to the only thing he knew in the warped and changed world around him.

When Merlin kissed his cheek, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to Arthur to return the gesture and tighten his arms around the familiar body against the onslaught of grief which threatened to pull him under. "It's alright," Merlin said soothingly. "It's OK, I've got you." Arthur closed his eyes and Merlin held him as the tears spilled silently down his cheeks. "I've got you. We're OK."

Through the lonely night, Merlin was always there to hold him when it became too much to bear, and his arms felt like the tug of a safety rope around his waist, pulling him against the tide of loneliness and guiding him towards the shore.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

> _"So like a shatter'd column lay the King;_
> 
> _Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest,_
> 
> _From spur to plume a star of tournament,_
> 
> _Shot thro' the lists at Camelot,_
> 
> _And charged before the eyes of ladies and of kings."_

 

"Merlin, are you going to take that dog outside?" Gaius called late into the morning. Merlin stirred restlessly in Arthur's arms, and woke to find Arthur watching him with a smile as he crawled his way back into consciousness. Merlin had fallen asleep in the early hours, and Arthur kept him safe, held against his chest like a lifeline in the fog of a light dreamless sleep. Merlin returned the smile as Arthur let him go and rolled out of bed. They padded out into the hall just as Gaius opened the door to the kitchen and let out an excitable hurricane of barking which skittered down the corridor, blunt claws scrabbling on the lino, and jumped into Merlin's waiting arms.

The puppy was male, a cross breed between a chocolate brown Labrador and something with quite frankly enormous ears and paws like serving platters. Arthur laughed as the animal ran into Merlin and bowled him over like a chess piece, knocking them both to the floor. Merlin was laughing helplessly, and Arthur folded his arms over his chest, refusing to help. "Will! Will, stop it for god's sake!" Merlin cried, pushing the puppy off his chest and holding it at arm's length where it wriggled desperately. "Here," Merlin said, handing the puppy to Arthur, who backed away against the doorframe.

"No," Arthur said firmly. Merlin rolled his eyes and set Will down on the floor while he went hunting for his shoes. Arthur followed his example, pushing his feet into the worn leather boots Merlin had kept for him. They made their way out into the crisp autumn morning, trailing the frantic puppy behind them.

"Will," Arthur said incredulously. "The dog's name is Will." His eyes widened in realisation. "That's not -" Merlin watched him processing the information with interest as they walked. "That's Will! From your village! Your friend Will from Ealdor!" Arthur exclaimed. Merlin shook his head sadly.

"He's just a dog called Will." He said quietly, fondling the puppy's ears. "Not everyone comes back, Arthur."

Arthur looked away, ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said. Merlin smiled.

"Come on, you should see him fetch a ball, he's great fun." He said, tugging Arthur along towards the woods at the back of the house.

"Why would a dog want to fetch a ball? Doesn't he hunt for you?" Arthur called in puzzlement. Merlin just laughed and showed Arthur how to attach the lead to the dog's collar as he walked with him towards the trees.

When they entered the woods, some of the confusion fell away from Arthur's face, and he began to look a little more at home at last. Merlin watched as Arthur strode ahead of them regardless of where they were going. He let him walk on, letting Will off the lead again and smiling as he bounded through the undergrowth after Arthur.

Merlin found him a few minutes later, leaning against a tree with a distant look in his eyes and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Will jumped around Arthur's feet and nipped playfully at his heels, snuffling the leaves and twigs on the ground. Merlin could tell by the way Arthur stood, unguarded and at ease, that he was remembering.

As if in affirmation, Arthur spoke aloud, hearing Merlin approach. "Do you remember that time I shot that Unicorn?" He said wistfully. "And after everything bad that happened, after all the trouble I caused, you still forgave me?"

"Of course; in the end you came to your senses and saved everyone in Camelot, as well as the life of that innocent creature." Merlin said, throwing a stick for Will to fetch. Arthur gave a sigh and looked at Merlin.

"I don't suppose there are any left now, are there? Unicorns, I mean."

"No, they died out long ago." Merlin confirmed thoughtfully. "I saw the last one die myself. It was old and tired and I told it to rest. It's the only time something's ever listened to me the first time round." Arthur watched Merlin as he picked at the bark on a tall, wizened tree that was younger than he was. "It was beautiful, really." Arthur gave a murmur in reply, feeling the warm dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves and falling on his upturned face in pleasure. "Do you know that when a Unicorn dies," Merlin continued softly. "The entire forest goes silent, just for a little while, like it's mourning. Then the birds sing this haunting, delicate tune, and the wind stirs the leaves of the trees and the water begins to rush in the streams and it's as if everything is waking from a dream." Arthur reached out and found Merlin's hand, taking it in his silently and lacing their fingers together because it felt right to do so. Merlin squeezed gently and they wandered on, hand in hand through the trees that had seen far less than them, and which had fewer stories to tell.

* * *

They arrived back at the cottage as Gaius was making porridge for them all. He smiled at the two men gently and set steaming bowls down for them both. They thanked him and Gaius just smiled again knowingly at their hands joined together between them. Once they had eaten, Merlin showed Arthur the rest of the clothes he had procured.

"You kept all this for me?" Arthur asked in shock, staring at the fully stocked wardrobe and three pairs of boots laid out neatly before him. Merlin was beaming at him, and Arthur met his grin with a giddy smile and a hug. "You're brilliant." He said earnestly, and Merlin blushed.

"No armour," Merlin said with a small smile. "You won't be needing it this time round."

"No," Arthur said, "no I suppose not."

* * *

They walked back to the lake together after Arthur had expressed his desire to be in the open air. As they walked, Merlin could see how Arthur was marveling at the way the forest and the whole area had changed since Camelot's time. He bumped their shoulders gently and Arthur turned to smile to him. There was something distant in his gaze, how he cast his eyes around the woodland he used to know so well. Almost all of his time here in the present had been spent remembering his past. Merlin was eager to show him all the incredible things this century had to offer. There was so much that was new, so much  _life_.

They reached the bank where they had collapsed before, soaked to the skin and holding each other tightly. Arthur paused momentarily and stared out over the water. Merlin took the blanket Arthur had been carrying and laid it out on the grass in a patch of sunshine. Arthur turned back with a sated smile and sat down beside Merlin, stretching out languidly in his soft cotton shirt. Merlin didn't want to tell Arthur how strangely he was dressed for this era, the old king seemed far too happy for now, and Merlin couldn't bring himself to tell him that people these days didn't wear breeches...

"Did you ever marry?" Arthur asked him suddenly. Merlin flinched, his heart giving a twinge of regret before his brain could even process the question.

"Yes," Arthur lay back on the bank, closing his eyes.

"Tell me about her." And Merlin did. He told Arthur that her name was Vivien. Her hair was fair and there was a light pepper of freckles on her nose and cheeks which reminded Merlin of the speckles on a bird's egg. She was very pretty, and clever, and Merlin had thought that he loved her. Their wedding day had been the happiest moment of Merlin's life for a very long time. What Merlin didn't tell Arthur was how he had never been able to love her as much as she deserved. Arthur had always been at the back of his mind in every moment he and Vivien spent together. He guessed that she had been able to see that Merlin was holding something back, that precious sense of devotion and commitment which, although she didn't know it, already belonged to someone else. For her lifetime he had striven to make her happy and keep her safe from harm. They never had any children, because she was unable to conceive. He reflected that this was for the best. Merlin didn't think he could stand watching his own children fade away like everyone else he had ever loved. Merlin aged himself by magic, growing old with her, to be with her until the end. When Vivien had died of old age in the depths of winter over two hundred years ago, the pain was too much, and Merlin could never bring himself to remarry. Arthur listened attentively, and when Merlin looked away to hide the tearstains on his cheeks, Arthur put his arm around his waist and held him until it stopped hurting.

Merlin thought about everything else he was keeping from Arthur, the many times he had tried to find love, tried to forget. He didn't want to forget, and no matter how hard he tried he could never fall in love; at least, not in the full, passionate, head-over-heels, take-a-bullet-for-you love that he wanted to give them. And there had been many times where Merlin wished that he could just feel  _something_.

He didn't mention the men or women with Arthur's eyes or Arthur's smile. He didn't mention the men with Arthur's voice or hands or name. He didn't mention all those nights lost in the arms of a stranger, searching for a friend.

Merlin never told Arthur any of these things. It wasn't because they didn't matter, because they did, they still hurt, and the wounds they left still bled and brought tears to his eyes, and the loss was as fresh as the day they had left, one by one. Merlin wanted to keep Arthur safe from the pain he had carried with him every day for the rest of his life. He didn't want Arthur to feel how much it hurt him, burdened with the knowledge that one day he would come back and knowing in his heart that that day was as far away as Arthur was, lost beneath the restless waters of Avalon.

Over a thousand years of searching had brought him back to Arthur's arms, and this fact didn't take away the agony of waiting, but for a little while it suddenly stopped meaning so much, now that Arthur was there. Merlin turned to look at Arthur, having released Merlin and now lying again on the bank of the lake where he had spent so long lost to the darkness, the golden sun bathing his skin. He was smiling faintly, and Merlin couldn't help but smile with him. For the first time in a long time, it felt as though everything would be alright.

Moved by some indescribable force, Merlin leant down and placed a gentle kiss on Arthur's soft lips, closing his eyes and relishing the perfect living warmth of Arthur's skin. Arthur's hand cradled the back of Merlin's head and held him there for a moment, his lips moving slowly against Merlin's and his fingers stroking his hair. They pulled apart and Merlin lay down beside Arthur, grinning to himself and realising that Arthur was actually there with him, home at last, with Merlin where he belonged.

* * *

Merlin and Arthur slept together every night, wrapped tightly in the other's arms. It was as though holding onto one another was the only thing that kept them safe in the darkness. As long as Arthur was there where Merlin could touch him and feel the heat of his body against his own and his warm breath on his cheek, he knew that it wasn't just a dream. Arthur really was back, and Merlin couldn't bring himself to let him go. The nights held a strange quality for them; it was the time where everything became less real, distant and removed from the tangible reality which existed in daylight. It was then that Merlin began to lose his ability to distinguish between reality and dream. When this happened, he had only to reach out and find Arthur in the darkness and pull his body against his own, chest flush against heaving chest, pressing his whole body against Arthur's until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Arthur said nothing, tucking Merlin's head beneath his chin and closing his eyes, wide awake and remembering.

Merlin woke some time before morning, the light faint and watery through the drawn curtains. He carefully extracted himself from Arthur's warm arms and slid out of the bed, padding towards the door. Merlin cast a glance back to where Arthur slept undisturbed, and he smiled sadly to himself. The back door was already open, and he stepped out into the chilly night in bare feet and his thin cotton pyjamas. Merlin found the old man sprawled on the wooden bench beneath the kitchen window, smoke curling from the hand rolled cigarette which dangled between his cracked lips. Gaius raised his head as Merlin sank down onto the bench beside him. Merlin raised his eyebrows in greeting and rested his chin in his palm, staring out into the woods. "Can't sleep?" He asked Gaius absently. The old man smiled crookedly and flicked the stub of his cigarette into the dirt.

"Sleep is for old men, my boy." Merlin thought of Arthur stretched out in his bed and he sighed.

"Yeah." He murmured.

"Is there something on your mind?" Gaius enquired, turning his body slightly to face Merlin.

"When is there not?" Merlin replied, playing with his sleeve. "It's Arthur."

"Of course,"

"Why do you think he's back, Gaius?"

Gaius looked away, his eyebrow quirked in consideration.

"I honestly could not tell you," he answered. Merlin smiled at that. Gaius had never been one to mince words.

"I don't know; this is all so bizarre. There's no reason at all. We already have a monarchy, and a government which is scraping by well enough.

"Perhaps the reason is not of a political nature?" Gaius offered, his hands folded in his lap. Merlin looked at him where he was hunched over in his dressing gown, his face lined and that eyebrow raised in permanent disapproval; it almost felt like home.

"There's something more than that, something different. His return has to be big, it has to be important and grand and it isn't any of those things. It feels kind of...hollow."

"You need a ceremony to tell you Arthur's yours again?" Gaius murmured, tilting his head. Merlin shrugged.

"I just feel like I'm waiting for some big reveal, something huge and impressive that will just explain why everything is so muddled and confused."

"He is still the man he once was," Gaius said gently, patting Merlin's knee.

"No," Merlin said flatly. It felt good to say it, at last. "There's something missing. I can't say what but he's not  _Arthur._ "

"Merlin..."

"Look, I know him better than anyone, Gaius. He's not the same. There's a spark, there's  _something_ which isn't there now that was before." Merlin dropped his head back into his hands and sighed shakily. "I want to go home." He said softly. "I want to go home with him." Gaius put his arm around Merlin's shoulders and drew him closer.

"Come now, don't say such things."

"I just..." Merlin sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve like a child. "I want to know  _why._ Why don't we get our ending?"

Gaius folded him into a hug and Merlin let his exhausted tears wet the old man's shirt. It finally felt good to be selfish, just this once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, any feedback would make me smile!  
> (Quote from 'Morte D'Arthur' by Lord Alfred Tennyson)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, any feedback would be greatly appreciated!  
> (The quote at the beginning is from 'Morte D'Arthur' by Lord Alfred Tennyson)


End file.
